Twenty-Four Hours

Twenty Four Hours (3/?)

Flipping through "The Wizard's Almanac," Hermione suddenly found a page that might help. "Ron!" she hissed, slapping her best friend's back. "I think I found something. Unlike you," she added.

"Look- here. 'Known as Riddle Castle until 1942, a palace in a mountain peak is known to be bewitched by the Dark Lord in many different ways. All known Dark Magic has been cast upon this particular castle, and people are notorious for going in and never coming back. An anonymous source has provided us with the exclusive knowledge that there are over one thousand dungeon cells in this castle, each with its own unique way of torture. The walls of the dungeon are made of adamintine, meaning that no magic can be worked inside it."

"Could that be it?" Ron whispered, carelessly pulling the page out of the book.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, glaring at him. "Yes, I think this is it. See, Draco hinted to it- 'Take this Riddle. What is Dark and Light, for I see only gray.' What a load of rubbish, it's a surprise he can see anything at all, his vision is so blackened. Now how do we get to the castle; it's bound to be Unplottable. So naturally, the only way to find out is by asking someone who'd know."

"Speak of the devil," Ron moaned as Professor Snape walked into the room.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted the man cheerfully. He glared at her.

"What do you want, Granger?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Listen," she muttered, lowering her voice. "Dra--someone kidnapped Harry and left us with a note. It says they're holding him in a place that used to be called Riddle Castle."

"And you came running to the one person who would know exactly where it is?" Snape asked her angrily. "Well, guess what? I know it. I know the location, and the Headmaster can't even get me to reveal it."

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "You're not still loyal to--him, are you?"

"No, of course not. Fifty points from Gryffindor. No, I can't tell you because of this." He pulled back his black sleeve and showed her the Dark Mark. "When I cut myself, and my skin is broken, the Mark is not so powerful. But as of right now, I am not bleeding or anything like that, Miss Granger."

"They're going to kill him, Professor!" she wailed, wringing her hands in despair. "Hold on- amisnaro!" Sure enough, Snape's arm was bleeding right in the center of the Mark. "Hurry, tell me, while the blood is fresh!"

"Who's going to kill who?" Snape asked, bewildered.

"The- the kidnapper wants to kill Harry if we're not there in twenty-four hours! Hurry!"

Snape looked resigned and quickly wrote out a set of directions for Hermione and Ron to use to get to Riddle Castle. "Repario," Hermione murmured, and the skin was sealed properly the way it was before. Then, "Obliviate!" and Snape had no memory of the entire incident, and only remembered walking in and handing Hermione spare parchment.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione called to him before ushering Ron out of the library. Bewildered, Snape just glared at the Gryffindors' retreating backs.

* * *

A small pop took place in the sitting room fireplace, and suddenly the very attractive face of Christopher Shearson appeared. "Michelle?" he called uncertainly, and his voice rang through the room. "MICHELLE?" Still no answer. "MICHELLE ELISABETH MALFOY!" Suddenly, quiet footsteps leapt down the steps and, right on cue, a certain female Malfoy arrived in front of her boyfriend.

"Hey Chris," she sighed, bored. "I'm sorry I took so long. Were you waiting long?" She smiled wickedly.

"Sorta, yeah," Chris replied in mock-anger. "NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!" They both erupted into appreciative giggles as Michelle mimed shouting. "So what's new? Why are you home rather than at school?"

"Oh, well, it's really funny actually. See, at the Quidditch match yesterday, you know how Potter was knocked out? So at midnight, Draco and I Portkeyed him up to you-know-where, and Father put him in a dungeon cell. Draco and I wanted to stick around to see what happens, so... we're still here. Want to come by for a while?"

Chris, whose face had been changing from emotion to emotion, stared at her. "That- that would be great, Michelle. Really. I mean, I have my own room there and everything." He tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace, walked right through the flames and appeared next to his girlfriend, grinning. "Hey, Mich. Long time no see."

Giggling, Michelle walked him upstairs, when they ran into Draco. "Yo, Draco!" Chris greeted him. "'Sup?" Draco shook his head, smiling, and greeted the other boy in return.

"Chris, be honest. When you were a little kid, did your Father drop you on your head?" Draco asked seriously.

"Don't think so, why?" Chris replied good-naturedly. He was really quite popular and a Slytherin all the way, but the fact remained that he was a very good friend to Michelle and Draco, so his behavior was often rather crazy. He liked to joke around, but in the presence of other Slytherins, he refrained from doing so. Alone with the two Malfoys, however, Chris had fun. Something neither Michelle's parents nor Chris's allowed them to do very often at home.

"Chris, why don't you owl your mum and dad and then meet me in my room?" Michelle suggested. Chris shrugged and walked over to the Owlrey as Michelle and Draco sat to talk to each other. "So, Draco, what do you think of Chris today?" she asked, giggling.

"Not much, as usual," Draco replied. "But on to more important things. I sent the letter to Mudblood and Weasel, and got this back." He waved a piece of parchment in the air and handed it to his sister to read.

Draco:

We are on our way. Don't you dare hurt Harry or I will personally make sure you never speak again. I swear to you, if Harry is harmed at all by the time we get there, Malfoy, you will find yourself in a very uncomfortable situation.

-Hermione

Malfoy-

I don't know about Hermione, but I'm just going to resort to death threats right away. How about this: if we get there and you have some loophole in that letter you sent us, I will have Hagrid tear you limb from limb with assistance from his Skrewts. And another thing- Riddle Castle is the absolute dumbest name for a manor, don't you think?

-Ronald Sean Weasley

"Ha!" Michelle exclaimed, leaning towards the fire to burn the letter, but Draco slapped her perfectly manicured hand away.

"We're changing it a bit, then showing it to Potter. That's MY idea, not part of the stupid Plan. Come on, up to your room, now." Michelle followed him, not for the first time in her life thinking that it really paid to have such a brilliant, cunning brother.

"Sit," Draco ordered as they reached Michelle's room. Michelle sat at her desk. "Now, copy Mudblood's handwriting first. It'll be harder, because it's neat. Weasley's is just... blah. Now, get ready to write..."

Malfoy-

Why should we come? I bet it's just some dumb plan of yours, trying to capture us so that you can get Harry to come too. True, I haven't seen Harry since the Quidditch match, but that's probably part of your plan as well. Well guess what? It's not going to work! Ron and I take care of Harry, we look out for him, but this is insane. Even if you do have him, I'm not risking that. When it comes time to make a choice blindly, where you don't know whether you're saving the person or hurting them by doing either option, it never pays to take the easy way out. But now, when it comes to Harry, it's different. Malfoy, without sounding like I like you at all (in fact I hate you), I admire that you are cunning and clever. But right now, I couldn't care less. This is absolutely evil, and it proves that you are more than just a bully. I'm NOT coming, Malfoy.

-Hermione Granger

Malfoy-

Like Hermione said, what have you ever done that should make us believe you? You insult all three of us at least five times a day, and on top of that your bastard Father and his stupid buddies murdered the only person Harry ever really cared about. He also set my sister up for an appointment with death, but just 'cause of Harry she escaped that so it's not that hard to believe that you'd want Harry out of the way. Nice try.

-Ron

"That looks great," Chris announced, looking over the two new letters. "It's odd how I understand exactly how they feel without actually feeling sorry for them. I hope they die, to be quite frank.

"Same here," Michelle agreed, swinging her arms. "Shall we show them to the prisoner?" Draco nodded and snatched up the rolls of parchment, making sure to crumple them.

* * *

"My Lord, this will be very difficult! There simply must be an easier way." Lucius Malfoy paced up and down the floor.

"Lucius, how many times have I asked you to just think for a minute? Who is wiser, you or I? Who recognizes a better plan and knows just how to carry it out? So for your foolishness--"

"No! My Lord, I meant no disrespect, none at all. I only meant to say that- perhaps- there is an easier solution to this problem." There was a definite note of impatience in Lucius's voice. The Dark Lord caught it.

"Ah, Lucius. Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. Loyal and eager as you may be, it is time for another punishment."

"Please, My Lord!"

"I am sorry, Lucius. Crucio!" And with every ounce of evil possibe, the Dark Lord controlled his spell as the other man, fighting the urge to scream, rolled on the floor with the pain. Finally, Voldemort stopped the spell. "I hope," he drawled as Lucius stood up, "that you have learned your lesson. I call the shots, Lucius. Not you."

"Yes, My Lord," Draco's father mumbled, and he bowed and walked out. "Draco!" he called to his son as he headed for the dungeon. "Michelle?" He entered the room to find his two children and a vaguely familiar boy standing outside Potter's cell. "Ah, Christopher. When did you arrive?"

"Only moments ago, Mr. Malfoy, sir," Chris replied honestly. "It's all right, I know all about the Plan," he whispered so Harry would not hear. Lucius nodded briskly.

"What is that in your hand?" he asked his daughter's boyfriend, indicating the parchment.

"The return letters from the Mudblood and Weasel," Draco replied, cutting Chris off. Here, you can read them." He held out the newly written letters and Lucius read them, smiling slightly to indicate his understanding of what his children had done. He finished reading them and tossed them to his prisoner carelessly.

A look of horror danced on Harry's face as his eyes scanned the letter. Draco and Michelle slapped hands behind their backs so Harry wouldn't see their triumphance. "Finished, Potter?" Draco asked nastily. Harry nodded, his face free of any emotion. "As you should be. You have a task to complete tonight."

"Ah, yes, Draco, thank you for reminding me," Lucius drawled. "Yes, Potter, you do have a bit of work to do. There will be a gathering of my colleagues tonight, and you have been assigned the honor of waiting on us." Harry scowled but did not speak, because knowing Lucius Malfoy, there was more to come. And he was right. "Denying that honor is, of course, acceptable, but considering your circumstances..."

Harry clenched his fists, but Lucius continued speaking. "When one of your capturers asks you a question, you reply appropriately by using the title 'Sir' or 'Ma'am,' or in the Dark Lord's case, 'Master.' As with all our rules, failing to cooperate with them will result in death."

Harry gulped. Although anything would be better than waiting on Death Eaters, it seemed he had no choice. "Yes Sir," he mumbled without looking at Lucius. But Lucius took his wand and pried it under Harry's chin, forcing the boy to look at him.

"You will look at who you are speaking to, boy. Do not forget that we have ten times more power in our left hands than you do in your whole body and are more than happy to use it. Teaching you a lesson would only add to my already satisfactory day." Of course, his day had been nothing short of chaotic, but what good would it do to tell Potter that? "Now repeat your answer, looking at me this time."

"Yes Sir," Harry muttered through gritted teeth, forcing himself to stare into those cold silver eyes. It was difficult, looking one of his worst enemies in the eye, but he had to do it. Convincing himself that the fate of the wizarding world depended on it, Harry stared at the Death Eater until he looked away.

"Good. Someone will bring you your robes at ten-thirty and you will be brought up to our Dining Hall promptly at eleven. If you are unprepared at that time," Lucius added nastily, "you will be brought up anyway." Harry could've sworn that Michelle gave her father a disgusted look, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come and her face was impassive once more.

The four Death Eaters- or in the children's case, Death Eaters in Training- walked out of the room quickly, leaving Harry to ponder the day's events.

* * *

"Here," Michelle muttered, shoving a bundle of robes into Harry's arms. They were scarlet and only reached to his knees, much to Harry's horror. They were also torn in the knees and shoulders, and the material was so thin that Harry thought it would be see-through. Also to his despair, the clasp was stuck and when he tried to pull it, the whole top ripped and he was left looking like a peasant.

"Your luck, isn't it?" Michelle drawled, watching Harry struggle with his robes. "I picked them out specially; hope you like them." Determined not to let her know that she was getting to him, Harry stared right through her. "I know you're irritated, acting like I'm not here isn't going to change that fact, is it?" Harry shot her a hateful Look, and she decided that it was time to begin working on the Plan.

She sat down in front of him, facing the opposite way so he could change in peace. "I'm sorry you had to be taken like this. The look on your face when Draco--"

"How was I brought here?" Harry cut in coldly. "I'm sure you had something to do with it, Little Miss Perfect."

"No, I didn't," she snapped, succeeding in her indignant act. I was in the Owlry, sending Aunt Andromenia a birthday card, when you and Draco appeared. He was torturing you, casting curse after curse after curse on you, when you finally fainted after the seventh or eighth Cruciatus Curse. He forced Veritaserum into you, and you just began talking after he 'Ennervated' you. Talking about a secret group of witches and wizards against us," she hinted. Although she knew nothing of any such group, she had heard her father talking about something like it. "I don't remember what it was called, though."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry blurted out, and he instantly slapped his hand to his mouth. "I don't know where that came from. I never heard of anything called the- what was it again? Order of the Dragon? Assembly of the Phoenix? Line of the Poisonous Mutant Spiders?" Michelle smiled but decided not to blow her cover just yet.

"Yeah... and you said it was located at... um..."

This time Harry was ready. "Four Privet Drive?" he asked slyly, hoping to see just what Michelle was up to.

"No... that wasn't it," she replied, catching on. "Somewhere in London... what was it?" She put on a fake strain to her voice, as if she was trying to remember something very difficult.

Harry sulked. He knew not to mention the real Headquarters, especially if he had said it under Veritaserum and Michelle had forgotten, but lying wouldn't get anywhere if she knew that he was lying. So he did the best thing he could think of. 'Two can play at this game," he thought. "Seventeen Godric's Hollow?" he asked, faking a miserable note to his voice, as if giving up this information was very difficult.

"Yes!" Michelle exclaimed. "Yes, that was it. Anyway, are you ready to go? It's ten fifty-nine." Harry slipped on the uncomfortable scarlet shoes and gazed in awe as Michelle snapped her fingers and his chains disappeared. "Follow me," Michelle said briskly, but before they left the dungeon cell she leaned over. "Look, I'm trying to help you get out of here, okay? Just do as I say and you'll be out of here as soon as I can get you out."

Harry did not comprehend these words, because within seconds, the two of them had disappeared and reappeared in another room. "Wow," Harry could not keep himself from breathing. The room was very fancy, far fancier than every room in Hogwarts Castle combined. It was very, very big with hundreds of tables seating eight people placed strategically around the room. At the front of the room, three chairs sat on each side of a very fancy throne. They sat in front of a ridiculously long table.

"I can't blow my cover, obviously," Michelle hissed, "so I'll act cruel to you just for show, all right?" Harry nodded, perplexed, but stood casually by the doorway as Michelle rushed off to find Christopher.

Just then a house-elf appeared in front of Harry. "Mr. Potter," it half-sneered. Harry was surprised with its ability to express emotion, but had no time to dwell on it. "Master wishes you to go around and take orders from everyone. He warns you to be very polite and well-mannered and to take any insult that comes your way or you will be sorry. He also says that you must bow very low to everyone you serve. Then you are to report to the kitchens." And it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

With a resigned sigh, Harry walked off to do as he was told. Starting at the first table, he bowed, embarrased as the masked people eyed him strangely. "What would you like?" Harry asked, feeling very foolish. But the other people did not tell him what they would like to eat, because they were quite preoccupied with something else.

"Potter," spat someone directly across from him.

"That's right," Harry replied lazily. "What would you like to eat?"

The Death Eater ignored him. "Harry Potter? How did you come to be at the most esteemed castle in the entire world? You impurify our pure bloodlines in the palace, stenchify our perfect grounds."

Harry knew that losing his temper would result in serious consequences, so he tried another tactic. "WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO EAT?" The Death Eater looked at him and, after muttering some sort of nasty remark, ordered a ridiculous, complex dish involving several cheesecakes and five broiled well-done salmons, along with soup and salad. "Thank you, and have a nice day," Harry muttered through gritted teeth. He continued taking everyone's order and then approached the table in the front.

Unsurprisingly, its occupants were those he would have suspected: Lucius, Draco, Michelle, Christopher, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and obviously in the throne, the Dark Lord himself. Gritting his teeth, Harry stepped up to Michelle and bowed as he was told to. The girl laughed for a moment but, catching his eye, stopped almost instantly. "What would you like to eat?" Harry asked dully. Michelle bit her lip and, smiling at her companions, ordered a very large, complicated meal complete with seven different courses.

Next was Draco. Harry barely inclined his head to the boy, but when he saw Draco's fingers touch upon his wand, Harry unwillingly sank into a bow. "What would you like to eat?" he asked tonelessly and wrote down Draco's absurd answer. Next came Lucius, and then Harry was face-to-face with Voldemort himself. All the chatter died down instantly as each and every masked person in the entire room removed his or her mask and watched what would happen.

Knowing full well that Voldemort could easily make him bow, Harry dropped into a low bow (to everyone's amusement) and asked him what he would like to eat. Voldemort smiled coldly and ignored the question. Harry supposed he should have expected this; what force on Earth could stop the Dark Lord from playing with his mind before he could escape to the safety of the dungeon?

"So, Harry," Voldemort taunted. "How does it feel to be in the mortal peril you have escaped six times already?" Harry remained silent. He was not going to play with his enemy, he would not be messed around with, and he would not resort to begging. And that's what it would be. Begging.

But Voldemort wanted Harry to beg. "Answer me, Harry. Has Dumbledore not taught you to respect your elders? And I am including the buzzard himself in that statement," he added, to chuckles from his supporters. "Answer me! Imperio!"

*I know that scenario is just like in GoF and almost the same wording (actually, most of it is the same wording) but it's what came to my mind. JKR, don't sue me! (LOL)*

And Harry resisted the curse, although it was taking every ounce of his strength to do so. Just answer me... just answer... the words echoed through his head but that tough voice in Harry's brain fought against them. Strong-willed as always, Harry shook off the curse and looked his enemy right in those blood-red eyes.

"Very good, Harry," Voldemort sneered softly. "And to make my evening complete, I would like to test one more spell on you. Crucio!" And once again, the feeling of the Unforgivable Curse overpowered Harry and he was dropping to the ground, writhing, shrieking... and then it stopped.

Harry stood up gingerly and found that he could rest his weight on his feet, which was a relief. But Voldemort was not giving up so easily. He cast the Unforgivable Curse on Harry again... and again... and again. Finally, Harry fell unconscious after the twenty-sixth time, and he collapsed on the marble floor.

Just then, the only thing that could possibly make Harry's situation worse happened.

The grandfather clock in the Dining Hall chimed twelve times, and with a smile Voldemort glanced at it. He softly whispered, "Midnight."